A Real Page-Burner
by Applepoisoneer
Summary: Although this story barrows from the books, it is more closely related to the recent movie in plot. Two siblings and a ghost team up to stop Slappy and his new assistant from collecting all the pages of R. L. Stines last book to release the monsters trapped inside.
1. Chapter 1: Leaves on the Wind

IT'S A REAL PAGE-BURNER

DISCLAIMER: Hello, I'm nt R. L. Stine. I don't write the Goosebumps books. The only intellectual property that is mine are my added original characters, and my grasp on them is tenuous at best.

ENJOY!

Chapter 1: Leaves on the Wind

Thick smoke blanketed the quiet neighborhood. If one were to look out their window, they might think an eerie fog had rolled in, except those who lived nearest the blaze. Most knew it as "The Old Shiver's Place", but that was the extent of their knowledge Old man Shivers did a great job of keeping everyone at bay, barking at them from the other side of the fence like a guard dog.

As far as everyone in town knew, he'd lived alone, but there were a few scattered sightings of a young girl in the windows. But the fire fighters never found more than one person when they searched the inferno.

Rushed to the hospital, Mr. Shivers was within an inch of his life. Thankfully, his next-door neighbors called 911 when they had, or he would have most certainly been dead. But it wasn't the sound or scent of fire that first alerted them. A pair of siblings were up on the roof, trying to get their telescope to work,

Andrew and Alice were up on the roof for the promise of a full, red moon. Normally, Alice was alone in her astronomical persuits, but the anomaly was too strong for Andrew to pass up. That's when they heard an inhuman scream and saw a blinding, green flash. It lasted less than five seconds, but they were both sure of what they saw and heard. Shortly after, the windows came alight with bright, orange fire.

Leaving the telescope on the roof, they scrambled through the attic window and downstairs to dial 911. Their mother was sleeping, but the approaching sirens brought her into the dining room, where she had a front-row seat to the house fire.

 _"How awful!"_ , she thought, pulling the curtain to the side to have a better look. "That poor man, all by himself."Malinda Jameson knew what that was like, but she also knew what it was like to be vulnerable and abused. And as bad as being alone was, it was better than being abused. She was treading deep emotional waters when her children ran in.

"Mom, you're awake. We called the fire department already." Her son Andrew (whom everyone called Andy) was 16. He was the youngest and it frightened her to think of him as a teenager, but it was undeniable that he was emotionally mature for his age.

"Do you think there's any chance the fire could spread to our house?" Alice was nearly 18, and a worrier. She must have inherited that from her mother. Or in all reality, from her father's actions. She was six when Allen had put Malinda in the hospital, Andy was only four. But they were both old enough to remember the fear.

Malinda snapped out of her spiral and turned from the dancing flames. "I'm not sure. If it catches that old fence, we could be in trouble. Put your shoes on and get your coats. We'll keep an eye open and bail out if it looks bad." Her voice sounded surprisingly calm to her own ears.

"Hey mom," Andy started, a little hesitantly. "If you saw… I don't know, like a green flash before a fire, what could that mean?"

"A green flash? I have no idea what that could be." She thought about it for a minute and realied she had no answer. "Maybe it's just one of those weird optical illusion-things. Y'know, like when you see spots when someone takes your picture."

 _"Maybe..."_ Alice though, watching the dark figures of fire fighters sweep through the unnaturally bright windows. The lights of the ambulance danced on the glass of the dining room window, but the sirens had stopped. She found herself harboring a real concern for the man they wheeled out and loaded into the back, even though she was sure he would have payed her little thought, had it been their house that burned.

Outside, heavy boots trampled grass and sticks in a frantic effort to subdue the blaze. Lengths of hose ran from the hydrant and the truck, blasting water hard enough to shatter window panes. As the ambulance pulled away and the flames died, things calmed down. Jackson Chlo, a volunteer, trekked back to the driver's seat.

He heard a crackle under his foot and looked down. An old piece of paper rested in the grass. It looked as though it had been torn from a book, but sustained no burn damage. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands.

"Hey, Jackson, watcha got?" Al, the fire chief asked from over his shoulder.

"I dunno. It looks like part of a book, but some of it's in a language I don't know." He read aloud, "... man in the heavy boots picked up the page and read aloud from it. Karru Marri Odonna Loma Molonu karrano… what?"

Al chuckled and piped in. "Ting-tang, walla-walla bing-bang." Jackson let the page flutter back to the grass and the two of them climbed back into the truck.


	2. Chapter 2 Lyin' in the Witch's Wardrobe

IT'S A REAL PAGE-BURNER

DISCLAIMER: Hello, I'm nt R. L. Stine. I don't write the Goosebumps books. The only intellectual property that is mine are my added original characters, and my grasp on them is tenuous at best.

ENJOY!

Chapter 2: Lyin' in the Witch's Wardrobe

Rita sniffed the air outside on the porch of her rented town house. She had the downstairs "apartment", which included a kitchen, bathroom, a bedroom and a small living room. The upstairs was practically the same, but with an additional bedroom.

She'd gone out to see the red moon, but the heavy smoke had obscured the night the moon was barely visible, and the smell helped to drive her back inside.

The apartment was quiet, except for the usual heavy thuds and bumps from upstairs. A creak split the air, followed by the _clack_ of a door latch. It sounded much too close and too clear to be coming from upstairs.

Rita froze with her ear poised, waiting. Muffled shuffling came from the closet just beyond where she stood, on the edge of the living room. She stood like a deer listening for hunters, until she was sure she'd heard something. Until she was sure she wasn't crazy.

She took her umbrella from the spot near the door where she'd leaned it and gingerly approached the door. Holding her breath, she jerked the door open and winced as she peered inside. There was a strange blur of light, but nothing waited for her in the closet. Rita let a sigh escape her lips, but her relief was cut short by a voice in the dark.

"What're you going to do with that? Keep me dry?" It was a small, male voice. But despite it's quiet, it was powerful. Chills ran through Rita's bones, nearly freezing her in place. She willed herself to whirl around and confront the speaker. It was not a man behind her, not even an obtrusive boy, but a ventriloquist's dummy.

The two of them stood watching one another, sizing the other up. Until finally, the dummy spoke again.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" It chuckled a little before stepping in close to her. Rita was painfully aware of each speak the wood of his body made as he moved; his eyes, his limbs, rotating his head on his neck, all to the tune of a horrible _screeee._ One thing broke through her panic. There were no metalic sounds, nor were there the crackle of speakers. This was either a very sophisticated animatronic, or something else entirely. The organic feel of his movement made her lean toward the latter.

A strong smell hit Rita's nostrils, something like a campfire. She looked the dummy up and down, and it appeared he'd encountered a little fire. Soot marked his shoes, his black tuxedo was scorched in a few places, and there was some discoloration of his paint. But that could have also come from age.

Rita filled her mouth with air and finally found her voice. "Who are you and what do you want here?"

"Well," he began with great amusement. "my old place burnt down, and I'm in the market for a new one."

"So call a real-estage agent." Rita gripped the umbrella, ready to swing if the dummy should attack.

He was quiet for a short moment, before erupting in shrill laughter. "While that would put a roof over my head, it wouldn't put you under my control."

Rita couldn't help but guffaw. The thought was ridiculous, but while she felt she could overpower him, she wasn't sure what kind of supernatural power he possessed. She reclaimed her voice. "Why me? What've I got that you couldn't get from… I don't know, my neighbors upstairs or across the street?"

He rang his shrill laughter again. "What am I gonna do now that I'm here? Just leave and find someone else? No, no, no." He came much closer to her, touching the hem of her brown, cotton skirt. "That's far too much work. I think I'll just stick with you, kiddo."

Rita was 26, and hadn't been called kiddo in almost seventeen years. It was still uncomfortable. She decided her next move would have to be to get rid of him by force.

"Well… uh, sir-" She spat the word like a cherry pit.

"Oh, I like that. I like that a lot." He clacked his wooden hands together just under his chin, grinning his permanent grin.

"Well, sir, this is a lot to take in. Do you mind if I get myself a glass of water from the kitchen? We can sit down and you can tell me what you need me to do."

"Fine, fine." He took his hands away from his chin and waved one of them dismissively. "But if you try any funny stuff, I will hurt you. Severely." He follwed her into the kitchen and watched her fill a glass. "Remember, I'm the funny one around here."

Rita took a salt shaker from the counter and poured a generous portion into the glass. The dummy made a little cry of disgust. She gestured over the glass and smiled.

"In Hecate's name, we bind this spirit to the flame! Bringing nightmare, suffering and pain! Cast this spirit to the wind that all may know his shame!"

"What?" Before the dummy could process her words, she splashed him with the salt water. He flailed, as though being electricuted. Then, fell on his face. The dummy lay motionless for about ten or fifteen seconds, then squirmed himself upright again.

"What the hell was that?" He asked, genuinely stunned.

Rita, who was equally as stunned, gripped the empty glass. "Man, you're… you're really stuck in there."

"Yeah, that happens when you're cursed." He seemed to switch rapidly between annoyed and facinated. "But you know that, didn't you? How do you know how to do that?"

"Uh..." She wasn't sure how to answer. She supposed it was because she practiced magic, but how do you explain that to something like a possessed tool of entertainment.

"You're a witch, aren't you?" He asked the question as though he did not expect an answer, as though he'd just solved a great riddle. Laughing, he climbed into one of the chairs around the kitchen table. "Ah, so there's really a good reason for me to be here now. Isn't there."

"No! I mean, the kind of magic I do; it's not instantaneous, it requires rituals and time and… And-"

"And you can't just wiggle your nose and make things happen. So what? You and I both know that's not how the real work gets done. That's not how we get what we want. You gotta get your hands dirty! I like that..."

"So, what is it that you want?" She turned on her coffee maker. It heated the water with a dull hissing noise. Leaning against the counter, she waited.

"Who, me?" He asked coyly. "I'm just looking for a little company." He watched the freshly brewed coffee trickle into the carafe. "You gonna throw that at me too?"

Rita took a mug from the cabinet and poured the coffee, stirring a little creamer into the steaming liquid. "I wouldn't waste good coffee." She muttered, and sat down across from him at the table. "What sort of companions are you looking for?"

The dummy hesitated a while, looking around the room, seeming to smell the air. "What is that? A hot cup of toothpaste?"

Speaking before thinking, she asked, "How do you smell?"

"Terrible, but not as bad as you do." There was a momentary silence, then the two of them burst into deep laughter.

"Okay. Okay, I walked into that one." She admitted.

"Like an all-night diner. But never mind that now. I think I just figured out why I ended up here in the first place. C'mon. Grab a flashlight and hurry up." He hopped off the seat and started for the door, his gate small and a little wobbly. It would be almost comical, if he weren't an inanimate object imbued with life.

She sighed and clinked her mug on the cheap wooden table, and took a flashlight from a drawer near the sink. She tracked him to a spot in the shared backyard, where he stood holding a piece of paper.

"Here." He held the paper out to her. "Read this. Read it out loud. Hurry up." He seemed less annoyed and more excited, but he couldn't help getting on Rita's nerves.

She snatched the paper away from him and held her flashlight over it. "...from Stinkeye, they rose. Ravenous and looking for prey..." No sooner had she uttered the last word than the ground began to rumble and the dirt below them churned.

Venus fly traps as tall as redwoods sprang from the ground. They opened their bright violet traps, ing shrieks. glistening in the moonlight, and emitted terrible shrieks.

Rita's mouth dropped open and she raised a hand to cover it. Her eyes twinkled like stars as she watched the carnivorous plants sway and bob in the night air. This page, whatever this was, must have been left here for her. How could it have known of her love for carnivorous and poisonous plants? Perhaps, ifit had been any other monster or phenomena, sme might have been too terrified to continue.

"This… This is the happiest day of my life!"

"And it just gets better from here!" The dummy giggled, watching her watch the plants. If she was impressed by these, wait til she saw what he had in store!


End file.
